Chapter 9
Posted: June 29, 2007 - 10:10:40 pm


When I was back in my room after my visit to Rosa's, I sat down at the small table and updated my journal. I tried to write something in the ledger every night. There was something about carefully and laboriously scratching my thoughts in the journal that helped me relax. Also, writing out my thoughts seemed to bring them into focus somehow. After meeting Feleena formally tonight, all the questions I had, came bubbling back up again. Too bad writing didn't give me the answers.

After sitting there stewing for a few minutes, I decided once again that my best course of action would be to keep myself alive and enjoy this second chance I was given. If, while doing that, I could right a few wrongs, prevent some gross injustices and end up with the beautiful princess, all the better.

The next morning when I cruised into the kitchen to see if Molly had saved me some breakfast, I was feeling pretty chipper about my prospects. I was beginning to think that changing the dynamics of meeting Feleena had to have seriously derailed the march of events that led to my Uncle Ty Ringo's untimely demise. Now all I had to do was make sure things stayed changed. To that end, there would not be many more visits to Rosa's Cantina in my future.

Molly did have me some chow warming on top of the stove in the form of a couple of thick slices of ham and a half dozen biscuits. Molly also looked extra fine that morning, so I waltzed up to her and gave her a good morning kiss right on her little bee-stung Irish lips. Before Molly could react, I stepped back and gave her a boyish grin.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I said cheerily.

Molly was blushing when she returned the greeting, and told me to sit down. She bustled around the kitchen, fixing me a plate. She set the plate of biscuits and ham on the table and plunked down a cup of coffee, before sitting down herself.

We chatted while I ate, and continued while we sipped our coffee. I could tell Molly was excited about the idea of helping me with my office. The prospect of actually going into a saloon also intrigued her. Molly's older husband had been very conservative, and as a proper Victorian-Era wife, Molly had never seen the insides of a saloon.

We left Molly's boarding house, and I proudly let her take my arm as we walked over to the Bull. Molly was wearing a very nice simple dress, unadorned with hoops or a bustle. She had a wide brimmed straw hat perched on her swept up hair, and carried a parasol to keep the intense sun off what little of her fair skin was showing.

We reached the saloon, and I led a suddenly reticent Molly inside.

"Relax Molly, I'm not leading you into a den of iniquity. Not much goes on here in the mornings."

She nodded and blushed again as we walked through the door. Miguel and his wife were busily cleaning tables and sweeping the floor. I greeted them in Spanish and introduced Molly to them, before taking her to my new office.

Molly was in her element as she helped me arrange the furniture and catalogued what I needed to set up shop. On her own, she went out and borrowed some of Miguel's cleaning supplies. We set to work and before you could say Jack Sprat, the office was spic and span. With the street-facing window clean, the room looked bright and airy. All it needed was some decorations to complete it.

From the saloon, I took Molly over to Pritchett's Mercantile, so she could see what he had in the line of accessories for my office. Turns out he had quite a few things she thought I'd need. Pritchett's mercantile was well stocked, as the arrival of the railroad meant even luxury items from back east were available. Molly picked up some heavy brocade fabric for curtains and to cover my drop-leaf table, and a few knick-knacks to make the office less austere. We even bought me a fancy desk set with a green felt blotter, pen and ink well. My wallet was ten dollars lighter when we left Mr. Pritchett.

Our next stop was at the shop of a cabinet and furniture maker that Molly had done business with before. Molly haggled a very good price out of the man for making me a sign to post out on the wall outside the saloon. It would read "Tyler R. McGuinn, Attorney at Law" in both English and Spanish. I resisted the urge to add the ubiquitous twentieth century "Se Habla Español" to the sign. The Mexican craftsman promised my sign would be ready in a few days.

We carried our loot back to El Toro, and once again, Molly worked her magic. A doily here, a little carving there, and voila, a warm and inviting office appeared. Molly took a small cloth measuring tape out of her drawstring purse and measured the windows and table. She was going to sew my curtains and table drape herself. Molly was all smiles when I told her how happy and proud I was with the results.

I took Molly to the El Paso Café for lunch, before we headed back to the boarding house. I have to tell you that Molly was a wonderful person to hang around. She could converse intelligently on almost any topic, and she had a sparkling personality. Her elfin good looks and delightfully slender, bubble butted body didn't hurt her cause either.

When we arrived back at her place, Molly led me to the empty guest room next to mine, and took a sailing ship painting off the wall.

"This will go good in your office, Mr. McGuinn. It is nice and masculine, just like you," she said.

I agreed and offered to buy the painting from her. She would hear none of that.

"It is a gift, Tyler, to bring you good luck in your endeavors."

Then she gave me an impish smile.

"Besides, I need to move it anyway, so you and your guests will stop knocking it off the wall."

I could only think of one way to thank her, so I stepped forward, swept her up in my arms until her feet were off the ground, and laid one on her. Molly squealed in surprise when I picked her up, but in less than a second, her strong slender arms wrapped around my neck and she was kissing me back. When we finally came up for air, I sat her gently back on her feet. She leaned back and looked at me. Her big green eyes, smoky with passion, erased any doubts about where this was going to end. I picked her up and carried her to the bed, her arms still locked around my neck.

You don't have to be Einstein to figure out the first thing I did was unpin her hair and spread it out in a reddish copper halo on the white silk damask pillow slip. Her tresses, besides being that incredible color, were thick and smelled of the sweetest jasmine.

It didn't take me long to unbutton and remove her dress, and she was cooperative enough when I pulled off her voluminous bloomers. The problem started when I tried to get her out of her long white chemise. It was almost comical, the way she held the shoulder strap I was trying to push down her arm while trying to pull me on top of her at the same time. She was even more body shy than Liz. I stopped what I was doing and propped myself on my elbow beside her.

"I want to see you, Molly. I want to kiss every inch of you."

She shivered a little when I said that, and hesitantly moved her hand off mine. It was sort of sad, the way Anglo Victorian women were kept so sexually repressed. But hey, it was great for me, in that I had the pleasure of introducing some of them to sloppy, hot weasel sex.

Molly kept her eyes tightly closed, her face and chest red with embarrassment as I rapturously gazed down on her small form. Her breasts were the size of small oranges, but stood proudly on her chest. Her nipples were puffy pink pebbles, protruding proudly from her alabaster cones. The dusting of freckles sprinkled across her chest, combined with her sparse and wispy, coppery colored pubic hair, made her look as if she were a teenage girl.

Her response was anything but juvenile, though, when I slurped one of her puffy little nipples into my mouth. The hand that Molly had been holding tightly clenched to her side, shot up and tangled into my hair, as she smashed my face against her little breast. She wasn't rough enough yet to be causing me pain, in fact, her little whimpers of delight made me feel terrific. I opened my mouth wider and sucked her entire petite orb into my mouth, still lashing her nipple with my tongue. Miss Molly might not have had much in the breast department, but what she had was sure sensitive. She groaned softly as a small orgasm shot through her body, her grip on my hair tightening slightly.

I released Molly's breast and played connect the dots with my tongue and her freckles, until I was kissing her pouty little lips again. She kissed me back with enthusiasm, her one hand still clutching my hair. I broke the kiss and raised my head. Her eyes finally opened, and she looked up at me with a slightly puzzled look.

"If you liked that, Molly, you're going to love the next few minutes, but you need to lay there and enjoy it and not try to stop me, okay?"

She nodded, let go of my hair and threw her arm across her eyes. I took that as my carte blanche, and proceeded to kiss my way down her body. Molly's skin was soft and without any blemishes. I was thinking I had been considerably off base in my estimation of her age. Molly couldn't be much older than her mid to late twenties. I guess it was her austere bun and the fact that she was a widow, that caused me to initially think she was older.

When my kissing reached the juncture between her slender legs, Molly gasped but didn't do anything to stop me. With the ice broken, I dove in, tongue first. I lashed her clit as I had done with her nipple, and wormed a finger inside her surprisingly narrow and tight sheath. It didn't take long for Molly to climax to the new experiences I was giving her. I started to kiss my way back up her body, but by then, she had both her small hands filled with my hair, and she wouldn't let me move.

"More," she practically growled.

Molly was multi-orgasmic, and apparently determined to make up for a bunch of the ones she'd been missing. My tongue gave out before she did, as she cooed and sighed through one climax after another. When I couldn't take it any more, I climbed up her body and started to mount her. I had my penis poised at the portals of paradise, when I remembered about my rubbers. It was my turn to groan as I fell to the side. Molly's eyes popped open in alarm as I fell off her.

"Did I injure you Tyler?" she asked worriedly.

"No, I forgot my protection. I don't want to risk getting you pregnant. I have some sheaths in my room, I'll run get them."

I started to roll off the bed, but she grabbed my arm.

"No need for that Love, because I'm barren. Chester and I tried for years to get me with child."

I wasn't convinced, but if she were indeed barren, it would certainly be nice for me.

"Maybe your husband was the problem, Molly, not you."

She shrugged and smiled sadly.

"That is doubtful in the extreme. He had four strapping sons by his first wife. Now come back here and finish what you started."

Well that was fine with me, because plowing Molly's furrow without one of Mister Goodyear's products sounded like a splendid idea. I was back between her splayed thighs in a flash. It took a lot of effort for me to bury my shaft into her tight little quim, even though she was gushing wet and I was dripping precum like a faucet in need of a washer. But I loved every minute of it. For her part, Molly squealed and complained about me splitting her in half. She bitched and moaned about me being too big to ever fit in her, as all the while, she was pushing up against me, trying to get more of me inside.

In her own way, Molly was as hot as one of the Lopez women. She wasn't wild like Juanita or kinky like Anna, but she came more than both of them put together. Her orgasms came with such regularity, that I was able to control myself because of all the times we stopped so she could quiver and quake. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and just kept powering into her when she clenched up. Even though I did that for my benefit, not hers, it resulted in us having a gigantic mutual climax. I swear, it felt like I came for at least a minute, and pumped out a gallon of semen while she thrashed around on the bed as if she was having a seizure.

After we settled down a bit, I rolled over and brought her with me, so she was on top and I was still in her. She started kissing my face as happy tears ran down her cheeks.

"Anytime, Tyler, you just give me a sign and I'll be naked in your bed in less than a minute."

Before I could reply, my softened dick fell out of her, and a flood of our combined juices soaked my groin. Molly looked horrified and tried to jump off me as she felt the mess we had made. I just laughed, swatted her on her bubble butt and held her against me. We fell asleep that way, her head resting on my chest and her thick crown of hair spread over us.

We had been napping for about an hour, when I felt Molly jerk upright above me. She scrambled off the bed. I looked at her bleary eyed as she grabbed my pocket watch out of my vest. She made a squeaking noise when she saw what time it was, and hurriedly dressed.

"Saints preserve us, I only have but an hour to prepare supper," she said as she dashed out the door.

Dinner was on time, no problem, and was as good as usual. Molly's hair was back in its customary bun, but it was ragged around the edges. I caught her eye when no one else was looking, and pretended to fluff my hair. She blushed prettily and dropped her eyes back to her plate.

I saw Pen for the first time since I left him mooning over Liz when I walked into the Bull at seven that evening. Pen greeted me with a worried look on his face, and started apologizing for what happened between him and Liz. Even though Liz told him there was nothing serious between her and me, Pen still felt some guilt. I clapped him on the back and said I wasn't mad, in fact, I was actually happy for the both of them.

Pen's mood brightened considerably after that. As we set up for the evening, he told me that I would run the house poker table, while he ran a game with some friends that met every Wednesday night. Pen and the other four men were all like-minded professionals and businessmen, who formed the nucleus of the El Paso County Republican Party. Because of Charles Howard's (the party boss of the Democrats) chicanery, the Republicans couldn't get a man elected dogcatcher in the city or county.

Pen introduced me to the men as they arrived. I already knew two of them. One was Lowell Pritchett, the top dog over at the mercantile. I was surprise that the other was my buddy, Clement (Clem) Twining, the loquacious tonsorialist. The other men were Otis Willis, a doctor, and Wilfredo Acevedo, a wealthy landowner whose properties included the El Paso Grand Hotel, and about half the buildings in Sin City. Before thirty minutes were up, I had collected retainers from four new clients, and was the unofficial attorney of the El Paso County Republican party. It was a pretty prestigious start for a guy who had yet to be accepted to practice before the District Court.

Running the house table that night was good for my financial situation for a change. I won twenty-two dollars, an amount, when added to the four dollars in retainers I collected, that put me back on the plus side of the ledger after buying the furniture and decorating my office.

At eleven, Pen's meeting broke up. He walked his friends out, then told me I was in charge. The last I saw of him was a streak headed out the door towards the Gold Nugget and Big Liz. I couldn't help but grin as I thought of Pen and Liz. Liz was at least a couple of inches taller than Pen's five-five, and outweighed the scrawny Englishman by ten pounds or more.

It was twelve-thirty before the last drunk staggered out of the saloon and I could close up for the night. I went back to my room and unwound by writing in my journal for an hour or so. I dropped into bed at about two in the morning.

Well, it turns out that Molly Dean decided to forgo waiting for a sign, because she woke me up six hours after I drifted off, by crawling into my bed naked. I groggily held back the covers for her as she squirmed on top of me.

"You've made me a harlot, Mister McGuinn," she said, right before she tried to strangle me with her tongue.

Since Molly was already in the right position, I showed her how a cowgirl rode a bologna pony. Molly like the position a lot, because all her horsy had to do was keep a hard on and she could take care of the rest.

A half an hour and some six orgasms by her later, we were sitting back at the small table in her kitchen as she fussed around making me breakfast. No leftovers for King Tyler that morning. She sat and watched me as I ate, her eyes alive and sparkling.

Over coffee, I asked how she'd met her husband. She told me she met him for the first time, when he picked her up at the pier when her ship from Ireland berthed in New York City. It was a marriage arranged by her uncle, a business associate of the widowed Mister Dean. She was seventeen, pretty and dirt poor. He was forty-five, rich and distinguished. Her husband treated her well; he had even hired a tutor for her, so that she could learn to be a 'proper wife and lady'.

After three years in New York, her husband had packed them up and moved them to El Paso. He died three years later. That was three years ago. Molly intentionally made herself look older than her twenty-seven years, to cut down on unwanted suitors, gold-diggers and unscrupulous conmen. She was fiercely independent and determined to make it on her own.

I liked and respected Molly Dean more and more with every minute we spent together.

Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
El Paso 10